That’s My Mom

May 7, 2014

Yesterday was the first warm and sunny day here when I could carve out time to go surprise my mom.

For the record, she will be 102 years old on July 29.

One.  Hundred.  And Two.

So at 101, and given all the givens of her current condition and situation, I’ve gotten used to her not always recognizing me. She often thinks I’m her brother. Knowing my uncle, I take that as a high compliment.

Yesterday, armed with a pair of sunglasses for her, a lawn chair waiting in the car for me, and ice cold cans of soda for us both, I went to her nursing home.  She was scooting along in her wheelchair, right in the center of everything.

I greeted her and identified myself.  Then I told her, “The weather is great and I have a moment, let’s get outside and enjoy it.  Here are sunglasses, put ’em on and we’re gonna zoom outa here!”

She did.  We did.

Sitting in the parking lot facing the late afternoon sun, she was in her wheelchair and I was in my lawnchair.  The sodas were still cold.  We were talking about everything and nothing.  All seemed well with the world.

I was about to brag on myself for finally getting all the pieces in place for this moment, when she sat up straighter and started to talk loudly.

This is very unusual.

That’s my mom.